Unique In All the World
by chezchuckles
Summary: A Dash Companion set about three/four months after Ellery is born. Kate returns home late after a certain murder case.
1. Chapter 1

**Unique In All the World**

* * *

_"I am looking for friends. What does that mean - tame?"_

_"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties." _

_"To establish ties?" _

_"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..." _

― _Antoine de Saint-Exupéry_, **_The Little Prince_**

* * *

Kate is a little short of breath when the elevator lets her off on their floor. She has a moment of niggling worry - _what if there's permanent damage?_ \- but it disappears beneath the surface as she fishes her keys out of her bag. It's late, she aches across her chest, but she's alive and she's home.

Castle is asleep on the couch when she comes through the door. He must have been waiting up for her. She didn't tell him she was nearly killed by a computer. Let that come later.

Kate closes the door softly, a tight grip on the knob to keep it from clicking - not because it would wake Castle, she plans on doing that anyway, but because it just might disturb their restless son.

Kate's shoulders release when she manages to keep her entrance quiet, and she lowers the bag very gently to the floor. She lifts one foot to unzip her boot, then the other, and places her shoes beside the door near the coat closet. She slides out of her jacket, making sure to move slowly. But her breaths are easy; everything's fine.

The clock on the oven glows the time, nearly two in the morning, and she rolls her head on her neck, wincing as the knots tighten. She hides a yawn with her hand and glances towards the stairs, listening, but thankfully she doesn't hear a thing.

Kate moves towards her husband on the couch, leaning over to comb her fingers through his hair. The flop of his bags back over his forehead causes him to stir, and she slowly puts a knee into the cushion to balance over him, smiling as he wakes.

"Mm, Kate, hi."

"Hi," she whispers, sinking down to sit with one foot tucked under her. As he stirs, she finds herself still combing through his hair, touching him for no reason.

"Is it pretty late?" he says, his words sleep-heavy. The sound of him makes her body rouse, as if orienting to the timber of his voice.

"Pretty late," she admits. Her fingers curl behind his ear, stroke the soft shell, the down of his earlobe. He blinks slowly and watches her, and she leans her shoulder against the back of the couch, tucks in closer. "Interesting case."

"Hm?" His eyes slip shut only to flare again.

"Your kind of case."

"Oh?" he grins, but he still hasn't moved. She notes the book on his chest, _The Thin Man,_ and she's pretty sure he's read it a thousand times. Means he was just waiting for her, waiting up on the couch in the quiet.

Her heart flips to picture it, and she's usually not that kind of girl. "Astronaut was killed - on Mars."

"No!" he gasps, sitting upright, disturbing her fingers and the book.

She smirks, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing. She doesn't want to wake their son, or the baby, but it is so very lovely to tease her partner. She lays _The Thin Man_ on the coffee table just to stall for time.

"Kate," he hisses. "Come on. Don't be mean. Details."

She keeps a closed mouth, averting her eyes and shrugging. He growls and comes for her. She tries not to gasp, but gives it up to his mouth, and he swallows her moan after it as his hands clutch at her ribs.

She's pressed back to the couch, and she shifts her leg out from under her to draw her knee up to his waist. He breaks his kiss to touch his lips at her jaw, nipping with his teeth, and she lifts her chin to drive him down her neck. Castle's hands are busy, sliding under her black turtleneck and spanning her waist, thumbs rubbing just under her bra.

She makes some kind of noise, can't hold it in, and Castle lifts above her, making her open her eyes. His are pale in the golden lamplight of the living room, a blue flame of curiosity.

"Kate. Give."

"Give?" she mumbles, breathing hard and they just got _started._

"On _Mars_."

She laughs, too loud, and slaps a hand over her own mouth, groaning as the sound echoes in the living room. He tugs on her elbow and wriggles into her hips, and she gasps, but it does the trick.

"Training facility - for the Mars Project - they had a murder-"

"Oh, the Mars Project? Seriously? I applied for that; they turned me down."

She scowls up into his face. "You applied? Where was I?"

His face burns and he lowers his head, presses a kiss against her bare stomach, her turtleneck still rucked up by his hands.

"Castle."

"We were in a fight."

"So you were gonna go to _Mars_-"

Thumbs skitter over her abs. "I was rejected. Now, murder?"

"Mm, murder. (Why would they ever reject you? You're perfect)." She sighs and he licks her stomach, making her hips pitch up into his hands. "The-the simulation... oh, yes - filled with gases that simulate a non-breathable atmosphere. S-seriously, Castle, G_od."_

"Non-breathable atmosphere?"

She catches a breath, dizzy with it. "They were all in suits. We had to suit up too; I got pictures on my phone, walking through the sim of this barren planet." And then trapped by the AI computer and the clouds of gas pouring in- "Oh, Castle, I really missed you today."

He lays his chin on her stomach and smooths his fingers over her skin, and then he crawls up and kisses her very softly. "We missed you too."

"Ellery did okay after I left?" she whispers.

"Gave her the bottles. She wasn't super happy, but I think we all loved seeing you at lunch."

"Yeah," she breathes out. Strange how halfway through that Mars simulation, all she could think about was how giddy Castle would have been, how adorably annoying when not flat-out aggravating, but at the same time - longing to be home with them. She came home for lunch to nurse Ellery, and entirely forgot to mention the whole Mars set-up, absorbed by her family. "Lunch. Montgomery said it won't be a problem. Every day."

"Good. So Mars?" His eyebrows dance, and his palms slide up her ribs. Every inch of skin is sensitive, even now, and she finds herself arching into his touch.

"Mars," she says faintly, clutching his biceps as he hovers above her. "Kiss me first."

Castle leaves a lingering kiss on her lips and then he moves to stand. "No need to do this out here," he murmurs. "I can torture the details out of you in there."

"And not wake the baby," she hums, catching the hand he holds out to her. A laugh as she realizes she meant _Dash. _"Or the other baby."

Castle grins, lifts her to her feet, and she finds herself wrapped in his arms, his embrace like a balm she didn't know she needed. She's not a hugger, but he's turned her into one.

"You smell like space and rain," he says softly.

She laughs, muffling the sound in his neck.

"Your hair is damp," he whispers, fingers cupping the back of her skull, combing through her hair.

"It's snowing a little, spitting snow," she starts. "Or it was. I missed you."

"How sentimental you are when it's past your bedtime, Kate Castle."

She grins and presses that into his skin as well, sighing when his fingers massage at her scalp and down to her neck. She goes boneless when he works the muscles on either side of her spine, her body unresistant to his probing fingers.

"Feels good," she mumbles, laying her cheek against his shoulder. Her arms drop; she can barely hang on to him, fingers tucked into his belt loops. Even her hips are loose, like her joints might shift out of place.

Suddenly, the whole day has caught up to her, heavy and hard, and she sags against him.

He catches her. "Come on. Time for bed, babe."

She grunts at the pet name, but she's too tired to protest much. Castle pushes her back, waiting for her to get her balance, and then he leads her back down the hall towards their bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Unique In All the World**

* * *

Castle grunts into wakefulness, blinking in the dark room, and his eyes go automatically to the baby monitor. But it's a normal, flat register. Baby sounds, breathing, the faint hum of the lullaby machine with its projection of stars.

And then Castle rolls over and finds Dashiell standing beside the bed, little ghost, staring down at his mother.

"Dash," he says softly.

The boy glances up, blinks. "Daddy."

"Come around here, buddy." He really doesn't want to get out of his warm bed, the heat of the sheets and her body close to him, and so he gesture for Dashiell to walk around the foot and over to his side.

"I need Mommy."

"Hey, wild man," he whispers, "we should let Mommy sleep. She had a long night at work." Castle reaches out and closes a hand around Dash's thin shoulder, pulls him closer. "What did you need? I bet I can help."

His chin trembles. "I need Mommy." His whole body seems to shake, and then Castle realizes.

"Ah, I forgot. It's my fault. I forgot your pull-ups." Dashiell's face breaks, tears spilling over his eyes, and Castle hurriedly gets out of bed. "Hey, my man, it's okay. It's totally okay. It happens. Come here."

He knows what will happen if he picks Dash up, but he does it anyway. He crouches down and gathers his son into his arms, and yes, he's wet, and his pajamas are soaked through, and now Castle is too.

"Come on," he says quietly, standing up and carrying Dashiell out of the bedroom.

The boy is rigid in his arms, shame or disappointment, and Castle feels like the worst father ever. He got sidetracked with Ella because Kate wasn't home, and Ellery never fusses but she did tonight, not entirely happy with taking another bottle when Kate usually nursed her before bed. He was so caught up in soothing his littlest that he let Dashiell dress himself after his bath, and when he went in to say good-night to the boy, he was already in bed with his books.

Dash has been 'reading' at bedtime to help himself calm down and transition into sleep. His therapist's recommendation, and so far it's worked - cut in half the amount of tantrums and fights they have over bedtime. Of course, sometimes it means that Dashiell is awake at odd hours, but like tonight, Castle was just grateful that one kid was easy.

He wasn't paying attention, and if there's one thing he's learned with Dashiell - he always has to pay attention.

* * *

Castle carries Dash up the stairs, trying to shush his crying quietly, sharing the kid's shame. The soft tears are the worst, because Dashiell usually likes carrying on and being loud and - melodramatic, as Kate would say. Drama, she always whispers in Dashiell's ear. _Such drama, like your Daddy._

But not tonight. Just crocodile tears.

"It's okay, Dash. Accidents happen. You're still learning, and when you sleep, the learning part of your brain isn't really turned on. It happens. You're okay. We're just gonna clean you up."

"I need Mommy."

"I know, son. I know. But let's clean up first, okay? You and me. We don't often stay up together, do we? Mommy stays awake with you. So can it be my turn for a little while?"

Dashiell just cries against his neck, mixing tears into the rest of it, and Castle cups the back of his head and enters the kids' bathroom. He leaves the light off, cautious of how it affects his son, and he stands Dashiell on his feet on the tile.

"I'm all wet," Dash says pathetically.

"Yeah, me too," Castle tells him. "We're gonna shower off."

"No shower," he whines, lip quivering.

"Just really fast. You and me together, Dash." Castle flips on the water, adjusts the temperature with one eye on his son - in case the kid runs. But he looks sleep-drugged, unable to coordinate, still stuck on having his mother. Still crying.

When the water is warm enough, Castle turns around and strips off his sleep shirt, reaches for Dashiell to help him get started. Dash is malleable in his hands, making it awkward to coordinate, but Castle gets his pajamas off, the big boy underwear, and he dumps everything on the tile floor.

Dash gasps.

"Yeah, I'll get it later." Castle reassures him. "And I promise I'll clean the floor too."

"Mommy not do that."

Right. Routine, gotta stick to the rules. "She doesn't, huh? What does Mommy do?"

"Puts water on it."

Does Kate soak it in the sink? Gross. "I'll drop our clothes in the washing machine after. Right now, I want you and me in the water." Castle steps out of his own pajama pants, soaked in the front, and he can smell it now.

He won't forget the pull-ups again, that's for sure. He will definitely be paying attention.

Castle reaches down and scoops a resistant Dashiell into his arms, steps into the shower spray. The warm water feels good, but Dash stiffens, a strangled shriek in his throat.

"You're okay," Castle reminds him. "The water comes out from those little holes, remember? The shower head has all those tiny holes and the water that fills up our bath tub travels through the pipes and bursts out of all those holes to fall on our bodies - but not our heads. I won't let it fall on your head, Dash. Just getting our body clean."

Dashiell is vibrating with tension, but at Castle's words, something shifts, changes. His expectation of pain, maybe, or his acceptance of the inevitable. Dash's behavioral therapist has told them to give Dash a story before any of these sensory-stressful events, but Castle forgot to prep him before pushing them both under the spray.

Two strikes tonight.

He turns away from the showerhead, putting his back to it so that Dashiell is shielded in his arms. "Hey, my man. My best man. We're just going to get soaped up, let the water wash us clean, and then we'll get out. It won't even get close to our heads. Well, maybe mine - it's running down my chin. Can you see it?"

"Yeah." A tight little smile.

"So it'll my head instead of yours. I'm pretty big, and I'll block it all so it only hits you right here." He pokes Dash's stomach and the boy lets out a woof of a breath, his smile less of a grimace.

"Promise?"

"Yeah," he promises, tilting his face down to kiss the top of Dash's head.

Oh, ew. That was a mistake. He wonders how long Dash was sleeping in it before he came downstairs, how long he was _awake_ in it, afraid to get out of bed, ashamed to get out of bed.

"Hey, you know you can always, always, always come get me. Always come get me. If you're scared, if you have an accident, if you can't sleep - come get me."

"I get Mommy."

"Mommy usually just wakes up faster than I do. Daddy can help you too, you know."

Dash huddles against his chest, out of the way of the shower spray. Probably not convinced.

Castle squats down and stands Dashiell up in the shower, most of the water blocked by his own broad back. He reaches for the baby shower gel, squeezes some out, and quickly attacks Dashiell's torso. The boy shivers violently, and Castle walks him a little closer, letting the steam build up around them as he soaps up his kid.

It takes a minute for the sleep-dazed trauma to leave his face, but it eventually does. It does, and the suds slide off Dashiell's body and swirl in the water, and the sweet smell of baby soap fills the bathroom.

"Daddy can help me too," Dashiell whispers.

Castle's chest tightens. "Yeah, yeah, I can. I will always help you." He makes sure to soap the kid good, and then quickly washes himself, especially his chest and thighs where he picked up Dashiell. Then he gathers all of the slippery boy against his chest. "I'm going to turn to the side, and you and I will both be in the spray, but not your head. It feels good to be clean, and we're going to get clean, and rinse this all off."

He stands with the boy, and in the faint nightlight coming in around the curtain, he can see Dashiell squeezing his eyes tightly shut. His little hands are in fists pressed against Castle's chest.

"Here we go," he whispers, and maneuvers very slowly under the spray.

Dashiell flinches at the first touch of water, but that violence seems to get all of the tension out of his system. Castle makes sure to keep most of the water on himself, just offering their profiles to the spray, and Dashiell gasps, lashes fluttering, but his body is no longer rigid.

Castle manages to keep his promise, and not a drop of water touches Dashiell's head.

After a time, he shifts the boy so that the water can run between them and rinse off the soap, and Dashiell seems fine with that too. When they're rinsed off, Castle lifts a foot and turns off the water - and Dash actually giggles.

Castle lets out a long breath, feeling grateful for that sound. So grateful.

All isn't lost.


	3. Chapter 3

**Unique In All the World**

* * *

Castle pulls back the shower curtain, clutching his son tightly with one arm, and he reaches for the towel hanging from the bar. It's faintly damp from bath earlier tonight, but it'll work. He pulls it down and wraps it around Dashiell, steps over the tub to place the boy on the rug.

Dash shivers even though he's wrapped up, and Castle has goose bumps racing across his arms and legs as he squats down before the kid to rub him dry. Dashiell grips his father's knees and runs his hands along Castle's goose bumps, just as he does to Kate when she hasn't shaved.

Strange little kid.

Castle feels the overwhelming urge to protect him, this kind-hearted boy with his defenseless skin and different brain. Protect him, shelter him. Never let the world touch him. But that's impossible, and probably not good for the kid (as he has to remind himself).

He cups Dashiell's face and kisses his forehead, gruff with it, with his own feelings clogging his chest. He remembers that moment when he held Alexis for the first time, and how he had that sensation of _oh God, it's up to me_ \- but he didn't have that with Dash or Ellery. Not like that, not that overwhelming sense of being singularly responsible. He had Kate, and he knew they would parent together no matter what, and there was such confidence in knowing that Kate Beckett was his children's mother.

Nothing against Meredith, but he had felt, from that first moment holding Alexis that it would be all on him. He would have to be responsible.

He feels that same inordinate duty here now. He doesn't know why. Kate is Dashiell's mother, and exactly the mother this boy needs, but even as Castle crouches over his son in the draft coming in through the bathroom door, he's convicted. He has to protect this boy.

He has to.

Castle is responsible because Dashiell has needs that both parents have to be on top of. It's not just Kate - making schedules and emotional barometers and patiently answering every question. Castle absolutely has to follow through. Pull-ups at night, for one - and he knows he forgot a couple times with Alexis, got out of the routine, and there were tear-filled _I had an accident_, but this is different. Dashiell is different, and Castle has to be better.

Dashiell, unique in all the world, and Castle has to be the father he needs.

He wraps his son in the towel and picks him up again, leaving their sodden clothes on the tile floor. Out in the hall, Dashiell clamps shut his chattering teeth and squirms down deeper into the towel while Castle strides naked to the boy's bedroom.

He finds clean pajamas for the kid, and of course, a pull up, and he helps the damp boy wrestle into everything. Dashiell pats his shoulder with a curled lip. "You're wet, Daddy."

"It'll dry. And I've got pajamas downstairs." It is kind of weird to be naked in front of his two year old. Even six months ago, he might not have cared, but Dashiell's awareness of his own body has slowly dawned, and he's studying his father.

"I go with you," Dashiell says.

"Okay, buddy. Sure." He needs to change Dashiell's sheets and start the laundry too, and then a little expedition through their bedroom - where the boy can see his mother - might be in order. "But let me get your bed sorted."

"Sorted," Dash echoes.

"It's not bad," he reassures. "Just don't want to leave it overnight. Remember how Mommy put the plastic cover on the mattress? It's just fine. It happens and that's why we have the plastic."

"Makes a funny sound."

"Oh?" Castle murmurs. "I bet it does." Huh. Wonder if that's been waking him up.

Castle puts the boy in the doorway, just to keep him from wandering back into the mess, never know with Dash, and he turns around and strips the bedding from the mattress. The comforter is damp as well, but not as bad as the sheets and blanket, and he wads everything up and wraps the pin-stripe comforter around it.

"Hey, stay right here. Don't touch it," he says, moving around the boy. He uses the bath towel to gather their wet clothes, and he adds that to the load on the floor of Dashiell's bedroom. "Okay. Let's take this down to the washing machine."

"Naked," Dash says, one little eyebrow dancing up and down.

Castle chuckles. "Yup. Still naked." He picks up Dash once more and carries him back through the hall, sticks his head into the baby's room to check on her (still asleep), and then down the stairs, balancing his two loads.

Dashiell winds an arm around Castle's neck and holds himself away from the soiled bedding. But his shame and tears have gone, and he seems sleepy, battling the droop of his eyelids.

Castle sets Dash on his feet in the living room. "I'm gonna start the washer. Hang on."

But he can sense Dashiell following him like a puppy through the room and past the fireplace, to one side of the kitchen and to the door of the laundry. He opens the lid of the machine and stuffs everything inside, uses the detergent with bleach in liberal amounts, and starts the cycle.

When he turns around, Dashiell is giggling at him.

He feels better, even though he knows what the kid is laughing about. "Don't. Yours will look like this when you're older." He snags a t-shirt and a pair of boxers from the basket of clean clothes he forgot to fold last week, and he pulls them on.

"Mine?"

"Yeah. Growing up. That's what it does."

"Huh."

"Don't worry. It's not a bad thing."

"But a whole lotta pee."

Castle chokes on his laughter, but he leans over and gathers Dash into his arms. "Yeah, maybe so. But at least I don't have to worry about having an accident. Well, not until I get very old."

"Very old," Dash mumbles. He seems perturbed that Castle is laughing, and still sleepy too, so Castle stands up with his son and carries him out of the laundry.

"Did I do a good enough job?" he asks, nosing into Dash's temple.

Dashiell tilts his head back. "I guess."

"I haven't put clean sheets on your bed yet," he admits. "But I thought maybe, if you can be still and quiet enough, you could sleep with us in the big bed."

Dash gives a soft sigh, as if his whole world has been made right. "Yes, I can be so quiet."

"Sounds good, huh?" he whispers, rubbing his son's back. Dashiell's language has really grown by leaps and bounds since his sister was born, from grunts and one-word sentences to full blown conversations.

Choosing his moment.

"Come on, my man. Let's get in the big bed."

"Mommy."

"Yeah, your mommy is there too."

He carries Dashiell back through the dark living room and down the hall. At their bedroom, Dash is too tired to lift his head, but he reaches out for a sleeping Kate.

"Shh, quiet, remember? Mommy was on Mars today; it was a long trip."

Dashiell giggles, but he turns a curious eye to his father.

"Mars is far away. You can ask her in the morning." Castle lowers the boy to the bed, keeping him close with a hand on his shoulder. He follows after, lying down and keeping Dashiell in the middle. "No, don't wake her."

He wraps an arm around Dashiell and squeezes, a trick they learned from the therapist, Dash squirms in the tight embrace - but it settles him. Castle carefully draws the covers up, watching Kate in the darkness to be sure they don't wake her.

Dashiell lays his head on the mattress, practically dwarfed by his father's arm around him. Castle leans a little into the boy's back, giving him some deep pressure, and Dash sighs happily.

"Sleep, Dash. Better in the morning."

Fighting sleep himself, Castle stays awake as long as he can, in case Dash needs him, in case there's more than just the disappointment of having an accident, more than just a boy who has trouble transitioning into slumber.

It takes an hour. An hour of listening and fighting sleep, quiet in the darkness, smoothing his fingers along the side of his son's face just like Kate always does. Over and over so that the boy's eyelids shut in reflex until finally, finally, Dashiell's eyes close for good and he falls asleep.

Castle lets himself follow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Unique In All the World**

* * *

Kate wakes with a jerk, one eye peeled open by sunlight and noise and one small hand.

"Mommy?"

"Dash, _Dash_, buddy, no. Don't wake Mommy yet. Come here."

The little hand is yanked away from her, a pressure taken from her chest that she didn't realize was there, and then sweet wonderful bliss. Quiet. She drifts.

But the sunlight is there, just past her closed eyes. She groans and rolls to her back, takes a moment to debate whether or not waking up is a good idea.

She needs to nurse Ellery. And that decides it, even if she _would_ rather stay here and sleep.

Kate shifts and pushes herself upright, hair falling around her shoulders in messy waves as she surveys the bedroom. She feels out of sync with the morning, too soon its arrival, too little her sleep this week. She thinks Dashiell was in bed with her, but maybe she dreamed that.

"Kate?"

Castle is standing just inside the doorway, one hand down and pushing on their son's head to keep him out of the room.

"Yeah," she croaks.

"You up?"

"Yeah." No.

"Can I bring Ellery to you?"

She moves her tongue around in her mouth, gives him a sideways glance. "Time's it?"

"Almost seven."

"No, I'll - I'm getting up. Can she wait? I need a shower. I feel gross."

"Yeah-"

"Did Dashiell sleep in here with us?" she mumbles, pushing herself up off the bed. Late night, very late night, and the cases these past few weeks have been keeping her out at all hours. Not to mention she's been coming home at lunch to nurse, and it puts her behind. She stays later to prove she can leave at lunch; at least she sees her kids during the day.

She needs more sleep. But that ain't happening.

"Kate?"

She realizes with a start that she's been standing here staring into space while Castle has been talking to her. She glances over and he's still holding Dashiell back at the door. "Tired. Sorry. What?"

"Dash slept with us, yes, if you call it sleeping. Didn't wake you at all? His kicking and flailing?"

"Mm, maybe, can't remember." She rubs both hands down her face, trying to wake herself up. Grungy. Needs a shower.

"Kate," he calls again.

She turns, opens her eyes to him.

"I wish you could, but the 12th called, and Ella has been up since-"

"Ella has been up?" she says, shocked.

He grimaces, nodding. "I think - uh - Dash and I may have been-"

"We got rowdy, Mommy!"

Kate's eyes drop to her son, but he's squirming between Castle's legs trying to get to her, and her husband is making a valiant effort to let her wake up before the wild man is let loose.

She sinks back to the mattress and opens her arms. "Release the beast," she tells Rick, and he chuckles, but does as she asks.

Dashiell giggles as he pushes between his father's knees, stumbling over Castle's feet. He picks himself up and runs for her, leaping up so that she has to catch him before he can bust her lip open with his hard head.

Kate falls back to the bed with Dash in her arms, letting him think he's tackled her. Dashiell giggles again and squirms into her chest; she yelps and angles away both of his knees, tries to play it off even as he stiffens.

"It's fine, fine," she tells him. "You're good, baby. Hey there, Dash. Did you have fun sleeping in the big bed last night?"

But Dashiell buries his head against her neck, hiding. Kate turns to look at Castle, still in the doorway, lifts her eyebrow in question. He winces and rubs the back of his neck, comes inside the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and tugs on Dashiell's foot, but the boy stays pressed against her.

"Hey, Dash?" she says softly. She wraps her arms tightly around him, giving him the deep pressure his body craves, and he lets out a sighing breath. "Dash, baby, what's wrong?"

"I wet my bed."

"Oh," she sighs, glancing to Castle. Her husband nods and circles a finger, letting her know he rounded up all the soiled items - and hopefully washed them. "I'm sorry, baby. Hey, sweet boy, you don't have to be sad about it. It happens, you know."

"I woke up."

"That happens too," she says gently, amusement coloring her voice. She digs an elbow into the mattress and manages to lift them both upright again, but Dashiell cuddles against her, all elbows and knees.

She really - ouch - needs to nurse Ellery.

"Did Daddy help you?" she says to him, kissing the side of his face where she can reach. She jostles him until he gives a kind of huffing laugh. "Dash, baby, did Daddy-"

"Daddy can help me," he says. It sounds like something he's repeating, and she glances over at her husband. He nods and reaches out, tugs the hem of Dashiell's pajama top, pulling it into place before laying his palm on the boy's back.

"I see," she murmurs. "Daddy woke but I didn't wake up when you came to get me?"

Dashiell hunches his shoulders.

"Mm," Kate says. "Well, Daddy _can_ help you. And sometimes, my job runs late and I catch a bad guy after your bedtime, and so when _I_ get bedtime, whoa, I just sleep and sleep. And you were such a wonderful boy to let me sleep and let Daddy help you."

Dashiell lifts his head, his hair mussed from hiding in her neck. His little fingers play with the collar of her shirt. "I did. I let you sleep. Me and Daddy got a shower."

"Oh, you did? Wow. A shower? I thought you didn't like showers."

He gives her a very serious look. "Daddy helped but you know I'm a big boy now, Mommy. I only had a small accident."

Kate has to bite her lip to keep from laughing, breathing hard through her nose as her eyes meet Castle's in an upswing of hilarity.

Dashiell catches her cheeks in his little hands, his face intent, not laughing. "What's so funny?"

"No, nothing," she says, shaking her head. "I'm just so proud of you, Dash. Not a baby at all."


End file.
